


Tainted

by theoree



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mild Gore, Poison, Pre-Game Oma Kokichi, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Pre-Game Saihara Shuichi, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-10-23 02:39:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17674856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoree/pseuds/theoree
Summary: His entire being had been consumed by the storm that was Saihara Shuichi, and there was no going back.





	1. Poisoned

**Author's Note:**

> I have no clear idea of how this story will go, as it's extremely experimental. 
> 
> I'll probably be using time skips, so it might get confusing at times.  
> The tags will be updated as the story goes along, and the rating might change in the future.
> 
> It's my first time writing anything like this, so please bear with me.

A young boy leaned against a wooden fence, nervously kicking up dirt with bare feet. His unruly purple hair stuck out in every direction and his fringe was plastered to his forehead with sweat. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, smearing a thin layer of grime across his cheek. He tilted his head and looked at his companion, who was several feet away, inspecting a loose slat.

"We really… shouldn’t do this." His words were accompanied by soft gasps. He was worn out from all the walking they had done.

"You worry too much, Ouma-kun. It's gonna be fine." Ouma let out a worried laugh as his companion, who had previously been crouched on the ground, suddenly stood up and started tugging on the wooden board. 

"Saihara-chan…" The entire fence rattled from Saihara's efforts, so Ouma stepped away and brushed off paint chips from his baggy clothes, watching as the other strained to pull the object free. Placing a foot against the fence to gain leverage, Saihara gave another vicious tug, and the slat finally fell free, clattering to the ground. 

Ouma made no move towards the newly created opening, not even when Saihara reached out his hand in a beckoning gesture. All he could think about was the sudden feeling of dread that pooled in the pit of his stomach, and how much trouble they would be in in anyone caught them or found out about what they were doing. He could already _feel_ the lashes that would-

He snapped out of his thoughts when Saihara grabbed his hand and forcefully pulled him forward. Bowing down his head and looking at the ground as he was dragged along, Ouma chewed on his lip and thought of how warm and soft Saihara's fingers were, contrary to his own. He barely noticed that they had passed through the fence.

"Look, Ouma-kun. Isn't it beautiful?" Letting go of the hand he was holding, Saihara adjusted the hat that had been precariously perched on his head and pointed. Ouma brought his eyes up to Saihara's face, silently wishing that the other would take off his hat, but as always, it stayed there, almost as though it was part of his body. He tore his gaze away and looked over to where the taller boy was pointing at, worries suddenly forgotten.

"Wow…" Ouma could only stare in wonder at the sea of tiny flowers that grew throughout the field, covering the ground like a colorful carpet. The sun was starting to set, dyeing everything in a rosy hue. Ouma had never seen anything like it. "I never even knew about this. It was behind the fence the whole time..." His voice was tinged with awe and surprise. 

"That's because you were too short to see what's on the other side." Ouma didn't say anything to counter the playful comment. He shuffled a bit to the side and continued to gape at the view.

Saihara let his eyes wander over the shorter boy's face, marveling at how childlike his features were, how brightly his large eyes shone in the light. He reached out his hands and ran them through Ouma's hair, unraveling the snags in them and then settling them on the shorter boy's shoulders. He leaned in until his mouth was right next to Ouma's ear.

"But actually, that's not why I brought you here." At that, Ouma stiffly turned his head, an alarmed expression crossing his face. Saihara resisted the urge to dig his fingers into Ouma's shoulders or curl them around his neck. He could feel his hands twitching, so he quickly pulled them away. "Relax, I'm not gonna do anything," Saihara murmured before turning around and walking towards a small shed that Ouma hadn't even noticed before.

Ouma nodded, even though he knew the taller boy couldn't see him. With a wistful sigh, he looked back at the flowers before turning around and following the other, who had already made his way inside the shed.

It looked much better from afar, Ouma thought mournfully. The wood was old and rotten, and he was afraid that the entire structure would collapse if anyone so much as sneezed at it. The door had been left open, and he made sure not to touch the doorframe as he stepped inside. With a sinking feeling, he realized that the interior was even worse.

"I don't like it here, Saihara-chan." It must have been a toolshed of some sort once, judging by the multiple rusted objects and sacks that were littered on the floor and hanging from the walls. Saihara was rummaging through a collection bottles that lined a shelf, reading the labels and discarding what didn't catch his interest. A sudden breeze blew through the door and Ouma shivered, wrapping his arms around his skinny frame, as though that could do anything about the chill creeping into his bones. It was starting to get dark, which added to the creepy atmosphere and Ouma's discomfort. "I wanna go back now."

"Hmm?" Saihara gave a noncommittal hum in response. He just kept going through the bottles, occasionally dropping one to the floor. Ouma winced as a bottle shattered, scattering glass shards and spilling brown liquid over the ruined floor. 

Ouma watched the liquid seep through the decayed floorboards and bleed into the ground. Another bottle was knocked from the shelf, landing on the ground with a hollow thud. It rolled across the floor before coming to a stop right in front of Ouma. He would have picked it up, but Saihara let out a loud, "Aha!" which reverberated through the small space, ringing in the shorter boy's ears.

Ouma jumped in surprise. He took a step towards where Saihara was triumphantly holding up a bottle with a wide grin on his face, but immediately gave a strangled yelp as one of the floorboards gave way under his weight and forced a nail into the sole of his foot. The sting traveled up his leg and Ouma closed his eyes, letting out a hiss through clenched teeth.

Trying hard not to cry, he lifted up his foot. Luckily, the nail hadn't broken skin, otherwise he would have had to worry about getting an infection. "Ha…haha… _ow._ " Clutching his throbbing limb and swaying unsteadily, he tried to mask the pain he was feeling, but the occasional whimper still escaped his lips.

Saihara had materialized in front of him, holding the bottle in front of his face excitedly. Through watery eyes, Ouma tried to read the label. The pain slowly subsided, so he let go of his foot. He sniffled a bit and squinted. The darkness wasn't making it easy to see what was written on the faded paper.

"Strych, um, strychnine?" The words were unfamiliar to him, so he glanced at the taller boy before continuing to read what came next, written in smaller text. "Use with extreme caution." His voice trailed off and his brows furrowed in confusion.

"It's pesticide," Saihara stated, answering the Ouma's unvoiced question. He tossed the bottle up into the air before catching it with ease. "Although," he added with a secretive smile, "it _could_ be used to poison someone." His voice increased in pitch and his cheeks were getting dusted with pink. "I hear it's pretty dramatic, your body convulses and spasms until you die from exhaustion!" 

Saihara was breathing erratically as he spoke, thrilled by the thought. Ouma, on the other hand, was horrified.

"What are you even-" Ouma was cut off when Saihara spoke up again, his voice strangely flat and disembodied as he stuffed the bottle into his pocket.

"I know she does it." The smile had disappeared from the taller boy's face, replaced by an unreadable expression. "I know she hurts you." Stepping closer, Saihara grabbed Ouma's clammy hands and held them to his chest. "She burned your shoes, didn't she? My mother."

"Oh." Suddenly at a loss for words, Ouma looked at his exposed feet and wiggled his toes.

Saihara's parents ran the orphanage where Ouma stayed, but for some reason, they absolutely despised him. They had never been too fond of him, but ever since their son had started showing interest in him, the hostility had only increased. 

Ouma was sure that if they were aware of all the things they had done together, they would actually kill him. He considered himself lucky that it was only the shoes this time, they were running out of bandages.

"Don't worry, Ouma-kun. I've found a way to fix that. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe." Saihara gently cupped the other boy's face and held his head in place. Ouma hadn't even been aware that he had been holding his breath until the taller boy pressed their foreheads together. "You're on kitchen duty tonight, aren't you?"

"No!" Realizing the implication of Saihara's words, Ouma frantically shook his head and tried to push the taller boy away, but to no avail. The only thing he managed to do was knock off the other's hat. There was no way he would be able to overpower Saihara, even if he caught him by surprise. Still, he continued to struggle until Saihara brought up a hand and slapped him across the face.

"When you make my mother's tea, I want you to mix in some strychnine. I'll show you how much when we get back, alright?" His voice was gentle, without any trace of malice. Ouma suddenly felt sick. "I'll take care of my father."

Stunned and with his cheek burning, Ouma could only stare at Saihara's wild golden eyes with his mouth slightly open. It took him a few seconds to recover from the shock.

"I- I don't-"

You'll do this for me, won't you, Ouma-kun?"

Ouma hated how weak he was whenever it came to Saihara. Ultimately, he knew that he would do _anything_ to make the other happy. In the end, he always gave in.

He should have been disgusted. Angry. Scared. But he wasn't.

His entire being had been consumed by the storm that was Saihara Shuichi, and there was no going back.

Ouma nodded, and the smile Saihara wore as he wiped away the tears that started rolling down his cheeks made Ouma's heart race. It was blinding, innocent and dangerous at the same time, as toxic as the poison hidden in his pocket. A smile meant only for him.

"I love you, Saihara-chan." 

"I know."

As Saihara pulled him into a kiss, there was only one thing running through Ouma's mind.

 _'Saihara-chan, save me.'_


	2. Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just like that, the world of lies Ouma Kokichi had built for himself collapsed and shattered into a million pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get a bit confusing.
> 
> Hopefully, everything will start to make sense in the next chapter.

Ouma watched his breath fog up the glass as he stared out of the window of the car, absently tapping a finger against the dashboard to a beat only he could hear. The trees passed by in a flash, like a blur of green paint splashed dramatically over a blank canvas. An unfamiliar nameless song was playing on the radio, a cacophony of drums and high-pitched screeching that made his head spin.

The tapping grew louder and faster, until Ouma was pounding his fist in an effort to drown out the grating noise. The song stopped mid-scream as the radio was turned off, replaced by the soft, monotonous drone of the engine. 

"Can you not _do that?_ " 

Ouma shifted in his seat and turned his head to look at the origin of the voice that had interrupted him. He was greeted by the sight of an irritated Amami Rantaro, sitting stiffly in the driver's seat, hands gripping the steering wheel with unnecessary force.

"Do what?" Ouma knew he shouldn't be testing Amami's patience right now, especially since the other boy was doing him a favor.

"Take out your anger on my car."

"You mean this?" Ouma slammed his fist on the dashboard. Amami's eyebrow twitched. 

"Kokichi." Amami's voice was terse and laced with annoyance, but even so, his eyes were firmly fixed on the road. "I can't deal with you when you're like this." 

Ouma wasn't pleased at the other's response. He wanted Amami to do _something_ , anything other than brush him off and ignore him.

_Look at me, Amami-chan._

Luckily for Ouma, he knew exactly how to make that happen. His lips curled into a sneer and he readied himself to utter the words that were bound to get a rise out of the taller boy.

"Wow, aren't you just wonderful, _big brother?_

The car screeched to a halt as Amami slammed the brakes, catching the shorter boy off guard and throwing him forward. If it wasn't for his seatbelt, Ouma was sure he would have shot through the windshield and catapulted straight into the asphalt. He barely had time to let out a surprised _oof_ before he ricocheted back into his seat, eyes wide and mouth slightly opened.

Amami took a deep breath, so Ouma turned to look at him. The taller boy wasn't looking at him with contempt or aggravation like he had been expecting, but with eyes filled distress and sorrow. Ouma's face twisted as their color made him think of the green tea he had been offered earlier that day, and he wanted to throw up. He was all too aware of the liquid sloshing around in his stomach.

Earlier bravado forgotten and suddenly uncomfortable, the shorter boy ducked his head to escape the honest gaze directed at him. He pressed his back into the seat, trying to make himself as small as possible.

"You're always like this when I pick you up. I just… I can't help you if you won't tell me anything." Amami let out a helpless laugh, running a hand through his hair. "I drive you to a hospital, Kokichi. A hospital specializing in _mental disorders_. Every month. I don’t even know what happens to you in there, _why you're in there_. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?"

Lapsing back into his usual meek personality, Ouma wrapped his arms around himself and bit his lip, silently thanking the other for not calling it the loony bin, like everyone else did.

They never said it to his face or whenever he was around, but Ouma knew.

_I wish I could tell you, Amami-chan._

_But I can't._

"Please just drive." The words came out choked, but Ouma found some solace in the fact that Amami couldn't see the bitter tears that were pooling in his eyes.

The car started moving again, and Ouma let out a relieved sigh when the other didn't press him on the issue. Ouma would never say it out loud, but he was extremely grateful that Amami always knew when to drop a topic. It was one of the things he loved about the taller boy.

They drove in silence for half an hour with Ouma leaning against the window with his eyes closed until Amami cleared his throat and hesitantly spoke up.

"Does it help?"

"Huh?" 

"Therapy."

Ouma slowly opened his eyes. He thought back to the conversation he had with Dr. Iidabashi only a few hours earlier. 

Always the same question, always the same answer. It had turned into a cycle they went through every time they met. 

_"Do you remember anything, Ouma-kun?"_

_"No."_

After that, Ouma would simply sit silent and unmoving, listening and occasionally nodding his head to show that, yes, he was indeed listening to whatever the other was saying. In the event where he had to answer questions, he usually gave brief, if not indirect, answers.

He sat up straight and fiddled with the tips of his hair. In all honesty, he thought the sessions were a waste of time and money, but he knew he couldn't say that.

"Yeah. At least, I think so."

It seemed like Amami was satisfied with his answer.

The car slowed as they turned down the road that led to their destination: Hope's Peak University. A prestigious institution that accepted only the most talented individuals, secluded from the outside world. It was also the school they both attended and lived in.

Stopping the car in front of the imposing wrought-iron gates, Amami rolled open the window and flashed his ID in front of a sensor that was embedded in one of the bear statues by the entrance. The gates soundlessly swung open, and several minutes later, they were safely parked in front of the dorms.

Ouma undid his seatbelt and was about to reach for the handle of the door when Amami placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Kokichi, I think you should see more people." 

"Why? I don't need anyone but you." Ouma tilted his head and furrowed his brows. Amami had an unreadable smile on his face and it was making him uneasy.

"You need to make more friends. Just me isn't gonna cut it." Amami stepped out of the car and walked over to the other side, opening the door for Ouma and bending forward so his face was level with the shorter boy's head. His smile morphed into a creepy grin. "That's why I've arranged for Kaede to meet us at the library."

They were attracting curious glances from the people passing by, but Ouma didn't spare a thought for how comical they must have looked, he was too busy hitting Amami's back and as he was gracelessly picked up and thrown over the other boy's shoulder like a sack of potatoes when he tried to run.

As Ouma swung from side to side, he let out a defeated sigh and resigned himself to his fate, ceasing his assault on the taller boy.

"You can put me down now," he said weakly. By then, they were already in front of the double doors that led to the library, which was located conveniently beside the dorms. Ouma legs felt like jelly, so he held on to Amami's striped shirt as he was lowered to the ground like his life depended on it. 

The thought of meeting someone new, having to _interact_ with them, made his knees go weak. He was just awkward in general and terrible at socializing. The only person he talked to on a daily basis was Amami.

"I'm doing this for you, Kokichi. Besides, Kaede isn't that bad."

 _Ah yes,_ Ouma thought. Akamatsu Kaede, the star of the musical department, a genius who would surely go down in history as one of the most talented individuals to ever attend Hope's Peak. Considering that the institution had an impressive record of producing successful and influential members of society, it was quite a feat.

"You two must be close, if you call her by her first name," Ouma mumbled as he trailed after the taller boy as he opened the doors and stepped inside the building, eyes on the floor. 

"We've known each other since we were kids," Amami spoke over his shoulder, voice and eyes scanning the various tables scattered methodically throughout the massive hall. "There she is, at the far end."

Ouma had trouble keeping up as the taller boy strode through the library, but he was too embarrassed to call out and ask the other to slow down. Amami came to a halt a few moments later, and Ouma would have crashed face-first into him if the taller boy hadn't stepped to the side. With Amami's feet no longer in his field of view, Ouma came to a stop and raised his head.

The girl who was poised behind the table was stunning, standing straight with her hands clasped in front of her. Her perfectly manicured nails were painted a warm plum color, similar to her eyes and stood out against her pale skin.

Ouma's mouth went dry.

"Ouma-kun, it's so great to finally meet you! I'm Akamatsu Kaede." She reached over the narrow table and grabbed his hand, shaking it with a fervor that threatened to pull his entire arm off. 

"O-Ouma Kokichi." Ouma was sure his hand was sweaty and gross, but if Akamatsu was disgusted, she wasn't letting it show. 

"Rantaro has to me so many things about you!"

Ouma immediately whirled around and shot Amami a look filled with hurt and betrayal, but the other only gave a guilty shrug in return, refusing to meet his eyes. Akamatsu must have mistaken his reaction for embarrassment, because she quickly let go of his hand and waved her arms.

"All good things, of course. Please, do take a seat." She gestured at the uncomfortable chairs before sitting down and brushing nonexistent dirt from her oddly patterned skirt. Ouma had noticed when he first saw her that there were musical notes embroidered on the pink, most likely expensive, piece of clothing.

Once they were all seated, Ouma couldn't stop thinking about how out of place he was, sitting in front of someone as sophisticated and popular as Akamatsu Kaede.

Ouma once again asked himself why he had been offered a scholarship at Hope's Peak. He was nothing like the other students. Aside from his good observational skills and above-average intelligence, Ouma didn't have anything to offer. No talents, no special skills. He didn't belong in a place like this, where everyone had a goal knew what they wanted to become.

_I don't even know who I am._

She shot them both a bright smile, and Ouma was momentarily blinded by the positivity that radiated from her in waves. Blonde locks fell over her shoulders as she leaned forward, her face alarmingly close. Ouma found himself entranced by the movement of her fingers as she raised a hand and brought it closer to his face. He barely even noticed when she brushed his bangs to the side and examined his face. When she pulled away, the spell was broken.

_What was that?_

For the first time, Akamatsu spoke to Amami, giving him a thumbs up partnered with a wide smile. Ouma was still trying to comprehend what had just happened.

"You weren't lying when you said he was cute," she said in a teasing voice.

"I know, right? He's so tiny and pale," Amami agreed, nodding his head and talking like Ouma wasn't two geet away from him. "You could even call him pretty." 

Ouma's face was growing hot, but he didn't want to make his embarrassment too obvious, so he fought the urge to cover his face and gripped the seat of his chair until his knuckles turned white.

Ouma let out a small squeal and almost fell out of the chair when Akamatsu abruptly stood up and pointed an accusing finger at him, hair flying behind her.

"With a face like that, it's a crime not to have any friends!" The outburst hadn't been too loud, but the words still hit Ouma like a truck and he visibly flinched and recoiled in the fear that someone had heard. Amami must have noticed.

"Now, now, Kaede. He's got me." Amami found one of his hands and started peeling his fingers away from the edge of the seat. "Also, don't forget where we are." 

"You don't count, you're practically family." She crossed her arms and impatiently tapped her foot, voice dropping to a normal level and unaware that she had probed at a wound that Ouma never let heal. "I meant someone like- oh."

As though she had been hit by a revelation, Akamatsu let out a loud gasp and pulled out her phone, punching in a number.

"I can't believe I almost forgot," she hissed to herself as she placed the phone next to her ear, pacing back and forth. She raised a finger to her lips when Amami let out a questioning _"uhh"_ and spoke to the person who had answered her call. "Can you come over now? Last table. Thanks."

While she was busy taking the call, Amami had finally managed to pry off Ouma's hand, which now rested limply in his. The taller boy gave it a squeeze, but it did little to make Ouma feel better. 

"She might seem a bit insensitive, but she means well," Amami whispered, trying to ease the blow that Akamatsu's words had dealt.

"Hehe, it's fine, Amami-chan," Ouma whispered back in a brittle, distant voice. "It's not like she's wrong." He pulled back his hand and looked at the taller boy with a sad smile. Amami looked like he was about to say more, but Akamatsu had ended her call and sat back down, placing her phone face down on the table an arm's reach away. He couldn't bear to look either of them in the eye, so he focused instead on Akamatsu's phone, staring at the light pink casing and trying to decipher the silver musical notes printed on it. Were they part of a melody, perhaps?

"Sorry about that, Ouma-kun, Rantaro." She absently played with one of the clips in her hair, which also happened to be designed to look like... musical notes. What a surprise. Unfastening one, she placed it on her palm and offered it to Ouma. 

Tentatively reaching out and picking it up, Ouma cradled it in his hand and stared at the small accessory. The longer he looked at it, the more he worried that it might disappear. Not knowing what he was supposed to do with it, he carefully stuffed it in his pocket before looking at the person who had given it to him.

"A-Akamatsu-chan?" As soon as the name left his mouth, Ouma started inwardly panicking. He hadn't meant to use an informal honorific, but it had escaped his lips out of habit. He was ready to bow down and spout a barrage of apologies, but she just smiled and laughed.

"I hope we can be friends, Ouma-kun." Friends? Ouma didn't understand. He was probably the most insignificant human being she would ever meet. The only thing he had said to her so far was his name. With their level of interaction, they couldn't even be labeled as acquaintances. 

You don't just ask someone who was essentially a stranger to be your friend…right? Was she doing it because of Amami? Did she only feel sorry for him? Myabe she hadn't heard the rumors? Impossible, everyone on campus knew them. Did she genuinely want to be his friend?

Ouma knew that ultimately, he could never be friends with her. Trying to build a relationship with her would be impossible.

Dealing with someone like Akamatsu, who was dynamic, honest and always spoke her mind… _He couldn't do it._

If he had to describe her…

Overwhelming. Mesmerizing.

_Exhausting. Suffocating._

But still, that didn't mean he couldn't try.

"Thank you." A genuine smile appeared on his face for the first time that day, and he turned towards Amami, who looked like he'd just discovered a new country.

"Speaking of friends, I'd like you to meet someone. He just transferred here from Spring Field, and doesn't know anyone besides me." Akamatsu clapped her hands together. "He should be here soon."

_Spring Field? That sounds familiar… Wasn't that the school that-_

As if on cue, footsteps could be heard making their way towards them from behind the enormous bookshelves that could probably crush someone into a pulp if they happened to topple over.

Ouma turned around, and at that moment, it was like everything except the young man stepping into view from the philosophy section faded from existence. 

He could feel each individual beat of his heart as it hammered against his rib cage. 

He could hear the footsteps made by dark blue loafers as they stepped on the polished black marble floor; the hiss of air that entered his lungs as his breath hitched.

But most importantly, he could see a face that he could recognize, a face he hadn't seen in three years.

The person who now stood in front of him was different, but still the same.

"Rantaro, Ouma-kun." Akamatsu's voice pierced the air like an arrow. "I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Saihara Shuichi."

Just like that, the world of lies Ouma Kokichi had built for himself collapsed and shattered into a million pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any typos or grammatical errors.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, reader!
> 
> If you've gotten this far, I would like to let you know that I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.
> 
> I wanted to try something different, and it turned into this.
> 
> Still, I hope it wasn't too awful.


End file.
